


Steve Isn't The Only Overprotective One.

by Donnies_Lab_Assistant



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, POV Original Female Character, Protective Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 13:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15641793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donnies_Lab_Assistant/pseuds/Donnies_Lab_Assistant
Summary: Ariene- female name meaning "kind guardian".Back from another mission, Bucky isn't getting off easy- he's seemingly lack of self-preservation and recklessness is scrutinized under a none-too-pleased set of eyes.A bit of fluff, a bit of laughs. I hope I got the balance right.





	Steve Isn't The Only Overprotective One.

**Author's Note:**

> •My first Avengers fic.
> 
> •Based on a dream I had. Canon slightly divergent as Bucky has a prosthetic leg instead of arm.
> 
> •I have been away from writing for too long. Helpful feedback and tips greatly appreciated.

I pushed my glasses further up my nose as I squinted at the screen. They’d landed. Good. Now to pray whatever wounds they bring in this time, they’ll all be fixable with some painkillers and a good night’s rest.

_Freakin’ self-sacrificing dolts._ To the world, they were the Mighty Avengers. To me, their MSM (Medical and Services Maintenance) Officer in-charge, they were a bunch of super-enhanced adults with the recklessness of teenagers.

This was the second mission they had been assigned in less than 36 hours and that meant I had stayed awake the whole time, along with them. Not that I’m complaining, but superheroes or not, they deserved their fair share of R&R.

Grabbing a fresh page of MSM follow-up, I jogged my way to the common area where the Avengers would assemble for their compulsory MSM checkup before heading for briefing. Yes, I said assemble. Steve thinks it’s funny how I pick up on phrases and expressions used around me without meaning to.

I bumped into Natasha just as I rounded the last corner to the MSM common area. Her fiery red hair was tousled and she had a few scuff marks on her chin. She flashed me a brilliant grin as if she hadn’t been risking her flesh and bones just a quarter of an hour ago.

“Nat! The MSM is mandatory, you know that!”, I stated in my usual mother henning tone, “Where are you running off to?”

The Black Widow chuckled and waved me off, “Nothing broken, nothing torn. I’m fine, Ariene.”

“Fury will have my head if I let you go without the obligatory health check, you know that. And Dr. Cho will give me more than a earful if that happens again. Remember that time after the Ultron fuck-up?”

At this, Natasha threw her head back and actually guffawed.

“I’ll never get used to hearing you use bad-language words.”

I raised an eyebrow and gestured to the common area.

“Dr. Cho won’t say anything this time. The Director told me to get this to him asap,” she opened her palm to reveal a really out-dated flash drive, “and he let me skip MSM. I swear, Ari, no one’s going to pick you apart if you let me skip this. Just this once, please?”

“Fine.”

“You’re the best Ariene.”

“So I’ve been told. Off you go now.”

I smiled at the pleased expression she was sporting. Just like a spider to quietly slip to where she wants to be.

Every single time.

I pushed open the doors to the MSM, a tiny bit of dread swirling at the pit of my stomach. _They’re fine, Nat wouldn’t have played it so cool if they weren’t._

Despite the flurry of urgency and busy bodies with no one groaning audibly or grumbling, you could still tell that the walls that made up the MSM had some exhausted soldiers simply from how the air felt. Filling up the date, mission specifics and time, I looked up just in time to see Steve place his shield carefully on the floor next to the couch he was sitting on. His face was stained with grime, and varying layers of dust colored his cheeks an unpleasant shade of fatigue. On the next one, a very disheveled and upset looking Bucky laid sprawled out, occupying more than half the length of couch. He braced his arms and shifted to a more comfortable position as he gingerly rested his left leg on a foot stool. He winced in pain, pressing his dirt-stained lips together, as he leaned back and rubbed his face haphazardly with his gloved hands. His slow and deliberate movements raised my protective instincts and I felt my own face settle into a sympathetic frown.

I sighed with a heavy feeling in my chest. _At least they don’t look beaten out of shape,_ I observed.

As if on cue, both their eyes flickered to mine and they half-mumbled their greetings. _Super soldier hearing never miss the tiniest whisper._

“Okay kids, you know the drill.” I approached them as I righted the pad on my other arm. Call me old-fashioned, but I preferred using an actual pen on a sheet of paper instead of cataloguing my findings on a fancy tablet. One of Tony’s scanners could transfer all my scribbling into protected files anyway, so no one complained about having to do it by hand. Thank god for Stark tech.

“Hey Ariene,” Steve smiled tiredly, “Still favor a pen over a tablet huh?”

“Always.”

You can’t help but smile back when its Steve. He’s as obstinate as a bull yet softer than marshmallows, and these two characteristics make you want to be a better person no matter the time and place.

After I finished the usual examinations and determined that America’s beloved captain hadn’t suffered any concussion or visible trauma, I turned to my medical pad to record every detail. Bucky, America’s fiercest embodiment of loyalty, brotherhood and selflessness, had been uncharacteristically quiet during the few minutes I had been checking Steve for wounds and shock.

Well, he’s known to be quiet after missions and anything that puts too much strain on his prosthetic limb- but today he was being extra quiet. His careful maneuvers made a slight chill run down my back, but everyone at SHIELD knows he’d throw an angry fit if I went to check him for any injuries first: before tending to Steve, that is.

I left Steve muttering to himself about a pebble being stuck in his boot and his attempts to rid himself of that annoyance, and turned my complete attention to Bucky.

“James, tell me where it hurts,” I said gently as I went to shine my tiny flashlight into his steel-blue eyes, “and please don’t lie about how bad it is, again, okay?”

A lop-sided grin with worn-out eyes answered me as he winced again. I was the only one he allowed to walk away after calling him that. And I resorted to calling him by his first name when I was being deadly serious- he knew that.

Even though his face was covered with the same color of soot and dust as Steve’s, I could see a slight tremor lightly wracking his gargantuan frame and a thin sheen of fresh perspiration on his hairline.

Alarmed, I leaned back to take a good look at him and that’s when I saw he’d taken off his left boot and had roughly rolled up his pant leg. The prosthesis that formed the rest of his leg from below his flesh and blood knee-joint was starting to smoke and it looked all sorts of wrong.

Shuri, our genius ally had designed it such that it had a heavy-duty transparent cover so that you could see all the mechanical parts inside. It was beautiful, deadly and exquisite in a way that could not be replicated. Wakandan symbols and script encircled the joint where Bucky’s knee met the vibranium extension and even Tony would stare at it admiringly, albeit he would deny it every time.

To my horror, the transparent cover showed gaseous tendrils of smoke churning within its chamber instead of being a clear window into the workings of the gears inside.

“For fuck’s sake, Bucky! Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” I scolded as I went to grab the tri-locking mechanism on the inner side of the prosthesis to undo the cover, “and you call Steve a punk!!”

No sooner did my fingertips skim the locking mechanism, something jarred my senses and I gave out a little yelp. I stared at the reddened tips on my hands and scowled at the offending, repulsive sensation.

First-degree burns. _But that would mean,_ I thought stupidly, _that Bucky got burned too._

I looked up, searching for a confirmation from the still-quiet Bucky. He grimaced and nodded at my incredulous face.

Letting out an exasperated huff of annoyance and disbelief, I yelled at an intern to grab the closest canister of surgical-grade coolant and to haul it over. The terrified creature scampered to the nearest coolant booth and clumsily sprinted over to where I was standing, fuming at a sheepish Bucky.

“Ari, what-” Steve started to ask, but I shut him up quick and firm.

“NOT NOW ROGERS!”

He raised his hands in a placating gesture, but craned his neck around my lab-coat clad figure to look at Bucky, trying to deduce what had gotten me into a hissy fit.

Aiming at the reddened flesh (now safely covered by layers of gauze) encircled by the over-heated prosthesis, I blasted it with the coolant and swiftly took it off. The same intern I had yelled at earlier was standing near me awkwardly, so I thrust the vibranium limb into his hands and told him to run diagnostic tests on it. Hopefully it won’t be anything that Shuri can’t email instructions to fix.

Hands on my hips, frown on my face, headache beating on my temples, I glared at Bucky. But who was I kidding? I couldn’t stay mad at them even if I tried. I grabbed his wrists before he could hide them and pulled off his gloves. _Okay, at least the fire-proof insulation did its job. No burns._

“Bucky?”

Short of a boot, Steve hobbled over to the couch his best friend was sitting in. Must have gotten that annoying pebble out, I mused. He looked at the circle of reddened flesh and sucked in his breathe.

“It’s okay Stevie.” the dark-haired super-soldier smiled, “doesn’t hurt too bad.”

Steve ran a hand down his face tiredly. He hobbled back to his couch and landed in a heavy thud. “Sometimes you’re crazy Buck.”

Shaking my head, I dragged a first-aid trolley to where Bucky was sitting in a crumpled, exhausted heap. “I gotta put something on that burn, Bucky. Scoot over.” I instructed quietly as I sanitized my hands and ripped the seal off a new ointment.

To my relief, Bucky didn’t protest. He sat up and moved to make some room for me. Well there was plenty of space but I wanted to be close to his side after I’d yelled at him. Maybe I was feeling a little bad at screaming at that enhanced doofus.

“You know that Steve and you are all I have got, right?” I said softly.

“I know, Ari.” Bucky answered quietly, his gentle tone matching mine.

“I’m aware of the occupational hazards your job carries.”

“I know you do.”

Steve cleared his throat uncomfortably. I turned to him. Yep, just as I had expected- guilt painted all over his face. He opened his mouth to speak but I beat him to it.

“Save it, Stevie. I know you didn’t realize Bucky’s prosthesis was screwing up. Not your fault.”

He smiled and looked down sadly. Then he looked up again, and seemed to beam at some abrupt realization.

“You know us so well.” he said with genuine sincerity, bearing no depressing undertone, “I’m- I’m glad we three found each other.”

Bucky slung an arm around me and held me close. I leaned in to rest my head on his shoulder.

“Thank you for always having our back, Ariene.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead and I fought the sting of tears, “After Becca, I never thought I’d have someone like her again.”

I had seen a picture of Becca. Bucky carried it in his pocket close to his heart when he went on his missions. I wondered how he must feel, having outlived his family yet still look like he was in his thirties. With an age gap of only two years, they had been close.

A slight click made us all look at the door leading to the MSM. Natasha had her phone out. She was sporting a watery smile, but her countenance gave nothing away.

“Barnes,” she smirked knowingly, “you’re a real pain in the ass considering you got to be a big brother again.”

Steve chuckled heartily and leaned back to close his eyes for a short respite before they would be called for briefing.

Bucky grinned and leaned forward, his hair doing a poor job at hiding the warmth pooling out of his eyes. He pulled me closer and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead again.

“I’m sorry I made you worry, Ari” his voice was heavy with emotion, “I’m not being a very good brother, am I?”

Overcome with affection, I threw my arms around him and hugged him carefully, mindful of any other injuries he might be still hiding.

“Shut up doofus.” my voice was muffled against his chest.

Natasha plopped down beside him and threw a leg over Steve’s thigh.

As they began to squabble over who was more tired from the recent operation, Bucky looked down at me and laughed the way he did when he felt content and safe.

I hugged my brother close and closed my eyes. The Mighty Avengers, self-sacrificing dolts who didn’t know when to stop to run for their own safety (as selfish as that sounds), were the second chance I’d been given to call family.

Common gene pools and shared blood groups were something, but sometimes you get to choose whom you call your kin.

Bucky seemed to read my mind. He squeezed my shoulder, and when I turned to look at him, he had this knowing gaze that exuded tenderness and the slightest twinge of remorse.

“Bucky?” I frowned, “what’s wrong?”

“When do you get off work?”

“Another couple of hours? Depends on your briefing, really.” I eyed him, confused. “Why?”

“I’m taking you out for ice-cream after that.” He grinned.

“Sounds good…”

“But…?”

“Bucky, your leg is in the diagnostics section of Tony’s lab.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “I forgot.”

“How about a movie night-slash- barbeque-slash-slumber party on the rooftop?” I suggested tentatively, “Clint has been whining about wanting to try Bruce’s grilled burgers and Nat has that unfinished chess game with Tony.”

“Thor was talking about helping Peter with his astronomy homework earlier.” Bucky spoke absent-mindedly.

“Rhodey wants to show off his new blasters too.” Nat chimed in.

“I don’t have any plans either.” Steve grinned eagerly.

“Great. I’ll wear my goat print pajamas.” Bucky let out a little too quickly, then caught himself as we all stared at him.

“Its a gift. From T’Challa. Because I was with the goats. A lot.” he mumbled in explanation.

No one said a word. He suddenly became interested in his nails.

“ It was Shuri’s idea.”

The silent staring continued.

“Oh come on guys, don’t judge me!” Bucky griped at last.

Steve laughed good-naturedly. “No one’s saying anything Buck.”

Bucky relaxed for a second before he got riled up at Steve’s next quip.

“Does that mean you’re gonna play your little lyre and dance around a bonfire?”

A glove hit him square in the face.

“Shut up. Punk.”


End file.
